


Lead Me From The Path

by entanglednow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-04
Updated: 2010-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:36:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean tells him he'll like it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lead Me From The Path

Dean tells him he'll like it.

He tells him that it will help him understand what it is to be human.

Castiel resists, at first. This is not what they are to each other and he knows that sexual relations can complicate and destroy as well as solidify. The danger of imminent destruction, of Lucifer taking Sam as his vessel, of every battle perhaps being their last. These require attention, preparation, unification.

Until Castiel understands that perhaps that is one of the reasons _why_. This is a necessary diversion from the fate of the world. A moment of time where Dean does not have to be what anyone else expects of him. That this is an experience Dean wishes to give him, in these quiet moments. He begins to understand that Dean's insistence that he is somehow lacking if he passes on the opportunity he offers is perhaps not the whole truth. Though he resists the urge to pry deeper.

Castiel trusts Dean. He trust him, accepts him, and loves him, not in spite of his flaws and mistakes but because of them. Every second of Dean's life has woven him into something beautiful, something Castiel has faith in.

So the next time Dean kisses him Castiel accepts. He kisses him back, he allows those imperfect presses of flesh that bring them together in a way Castiel has watched so many times. He allows Dean to disrobe him, quiet and unhurried, leeching human warmth into his skin in a way that feels strangely graceful. He lets Dean's hands go where they will, accepts when Dean coaxes him into reaching out with his own hands. It's a strange new collection of touch and strength and pressure that he grasps slowly, uncertainly. When Dean claims his skin, soft human fingers and bright sharp teeth, Castiel lets him. He lets himself be pulled deeper, learning every new sensation as it's shown to him like pieces of a grand human puzzle he has never touched and never thought to try and understand.

Dean encourages Castiel to find pleasure in his own strange flesh, encourages him to find the same pleasure in Dean's when they fit imperfectly, strangely and obscenely together.

But Dean is beautiful like this, stretched underneath his own far more powerful skin, open and accepting, breathless; he begs, quietly blasphemous in his desperation and Castiel gives him everything he asks for.

It is...overwhelming.

And Castiel briefly, for one instant in time, loses himself completely.

He sits in the dark afterwards while Dean sleeps, trying to piece together the strangely disobedient strains of his own mind. Trying to find some way to process the new sharp heat of a sensation that threatens to drive an angel mad.

Humans manage it, so it seems obvious that there must be a way.

He learns that he is wrong.

It never goes away.

He can feel it still, many days later, a sharp edge of need, bright and hot and irrepressible where there was nothing before. A constant driving desire - and that word is no longer so alien. He understands it now, he _feels_ it.

He's desperate with it in a way that's like discordant noise. With the confusing burn of it, to touch where he has touched before, to take what Dean gave to him willingly again, to experience that bright imperfect moment.

He wants to tangle himself around everything that makes Dean what he is, the bright, warm flesh of him and all the irreverent, righteous beauty that fills him so deep. He wants to taste it under his mouth and press into it with his fingers and let it burn him. Until they are one brief, glorious whole.

There is not a second in the world where he doesn't think of it.

It terrifies him.

He's never wanted anything so much.

He's never _wanted_ anything.


End file.
